Polaroid
by ElesaryAyres
Summary: A selection of Drabbles based on the characters in The Breakfast Club.
1. Chapter 1

Dream of You

Always, when he closes his eyes, she's there, imprinted in his brain. It doesn't matter how many chicks he bangs, or how much alcohol he swallows, she's waiting for him when he passes out, her soft smile and tears and the smell of her hair.

He can't touch weed anymore, every time he tries he sees her lips purse around the joint he rolled for her and he grows hard as her eyelids droop. She's trained him with that look like a damned dog.

He wonders if bleach would erase his memories of her.

Her scent still lingers in his eyelashes, her voice echoes in his bathroom the moment he turns the faucet off. Sometimes, he swears he can see her silhouette pulling on her hose in the morning when he wakes up.

Tonight is as bad as its been for a while, so he creeps downstairs to a dive bar, stepping around a couple making out in the stairwell. For a moment, watching them, he feels her pearly teeth marking his neck. He shakes his head and continues walking.

He makes his way to the pool table as soon as he enters the smoky room. It smells like piss and sweat and booze. That's good, it should overpower the scent of cherries that always seems to linger around him.

He picks up a pool cue, feeling the familiar smoothness under his fingers, but tonight, it reminds him of her ankles, and how they tasted when he kissed them, so he puts it back down with a vicious oath and takes the first girl he sees up against the wall out back. She tries to hand him her phone number as he zips his pants back up, but he ignores her and heads back home, feeling like shit.

He fights sleep for as long as he can when he reaches his apartment, but eventually, hours later, he collapses face first on his messy bed and, as always, she's waiting for him in his dreams.


	2. Gunshot

He hated that the only place they could afford to live in was in the slum. He hated that she had to come home from school to this shit hole in the wall when her old home was a mother-fucking palace.

He hated that her father might have been right about him.

But he hates these nights the worst, when that distinctive sound would split the night and she'd wake, silent and shaking and curl into his chest. He would hold her and grit his teeth to keep from lashing out at her due to his own fear he would wake up one day to find her gone.

The tiny, good part of him longed to break her so she could go home to her daddy and rebuild herself in the comfort she deserved. And then, some wealthy man- _shit, I can't even think of her with someone else._ And so the selfish part one, the one who wanted-_ needed_ her with him always.

He pulled her close and tucked her under his chin, kissing her fragrant hair_, it smelled like cherries_. The sound rang out again. "I'll never let them hurt you."


	3. Separation

For the life of her, Allison couldn't pinpoint when it had happened; there didn't seem to be day (at least that she could remember) when it stopped being… what it had been before.

But one day, she looked down at her sketchbook and saw the skyline of a city she wanted to visit and the stars didn't spell out his name.

One day, she chose the seat next to Claire, and he didn't pull her on his lap like he used to. She began to call Brian when she got home, and when she got high with John, she didn't call Andy.

She still watched the John and Claire interact, and although it was a tough pill to swallow, she had to admit that however powerful what she had had with Andy was, it was nothing close to what their friends had.

And maybe that was why they had fallen apart. Maybe they lacked the desperation that drove Bender and Claire together.

And maybe that was okay. Allison still thought Andy was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. She still felt like he was home, and even when their relationship slowly suffocated before either of them noticed, he could still make her smile with just his presence.

Allison glanced down at her sketchpad, and saw his face clearly outlined in charcoal. She gave her throaty laugh and refused to let it turn into a sob.

There was nothing she could do now anyway, except watch the chasm between them grow by the day.


End file.
